Phoenix
by Rose Wazlib
Summary: She had promised herself, many months earlier when she first felt the tugs of longing deep within her, that she would never love James Potter, but love him she did, and loving him was the beginning of everything.
1. Into Flames

_25/11/2016_

* * *

 ** _Phoenix_  
**

"The world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames."  
Virginia Woolf, _Mrs Dalloway_

* * *

1967 was the year of the Summer of Love and that year that Lily Evans informed her sister that on her eighteenth birthday she would be moving to San Francisco to join the peace movement. This news, as real a revelation as anything else Lily had experienced in her life thus far, seemed unimpressive to her sister, who did not look up from her book. That night the sisters had crawled into their beds as they had every other night of their lives and drifted to sleep, as Cokeworth lay beyond the windows of their parents' house, silent and innocuous and empty while a war raged across the sea.

Lily Evans had dreamt of San Francisco and Greenwich Village and Havana. Lily Evans wanted to learn to meditate in India like the Beatles and grow her hair to her hips. She wanted to live in a squat in Haight-Ashbury and march through Washington and she wanted to end the war. She wanted to fall in love over and over again and travel to every corner of the earth with a man she adored and who adored her in return, but she would never marry or have children or be anything but free.

But Lily Evans would never do any of that. Her hair never passed her elbows and in her lifetime she only fell in love once. She married at the age of nineteen and became a mother at twenty. In her brief, terrible and immaculate twenty-one years on this earth she never left the United Kingdom.

By 1978, the Summer of Love was gone and the war was over and Lily Evans no longer saw freedom in the bohemian squalor of cities she would never visit but instead in something glistening in the future of the long life the world was promising her, but the path to which was blocked for her by this a new war that was no longer known to her through pictures on the television set but in the slurs of _Mudblood_ hissed at her from across classrooms.

And perhaps, as time went on and her bones turned to dust beside the man she loved, when days of dreaming of San Francisco were long passed and the eyes of history would turn to her and scholars would write the name of her child in their books, there would be some knowledge – some legend – that the long ago promise she had given to her sister would realise itself, and perhaps she would, indeed, end the war.

Of all the promises she had made to herself in her short, little life she had never expected that to be the one she would keep. Time, she knew, had a habit of breaking promises, not fulfilling them.

She had promised herself war and all its advocates were and always would be sinners, but by eighteen she was first and foremost a soldier. She had promised herself she would never raise her wand on a person, but raising a wand became the difference between life and death. She had promised herself, many months earlier when she first felt the tugs of longing deep within her, that she would never love James Potter, but love him she did, and loving him was the beginning of everything, because if she had not begun to break these promises the war would have raged on long after her body went into the earth, and the first of these promises was broken on the 25th of May 1978 when she agreed to a date with James Potter.

The 25th of May 1978 was a warm night and a gleaming moon hung in the sky, light streaming through the high stain-glassed windows and casting the two Gryffindors in squares of colour. He was looking at her in a way she had never seen her do so before, hazel eyes luminous in the moonlight, his dark face set in a copper hue.

He cleared the lump in his throat to break the silence. 'I mean, you probably have plans, but just if you've got a free moment…'

'No,' she replied in a voice she hoped, but doubted, sounded even. 'No, I don't have any plans – none.'

He stared at her and said nothing, and she did nothing but stare back. She wondered if there was any feasible possibility that his heart was beating as quickly as her own.

'No plans at all?' he asked her. 'Wow, little miss popularity, you are.'

She smiled, and he smiled, and they continued to gaze at the other. 'Shut up, Potter. And I suppose you have an action packed Saturday planned.'

'You know me too well. But seriously, if you want to, then I want to.'

'I want to,' she assured him and she looked away, dropping his gaze, hoping that in the dim light her blushing cheeks would not betray her. 'I think we best get back upstairs.'

'Ever the practical one,' he remarked, as they started back down the corridor.

The walk back to Gryffindor tower was shrouded in a heavy silence that seemed thick enough to touch, the moon gleaming with an unearthly luminescence, the chill of the soundless corridors somehow soothing. James Potter walked beside her and her heart was pounding. She had broken her promise, and every cell in her body was screaming with infidelity. Blood coursed through her veins in sacrilege, her unfaithful lungs struggled to keep her breathing even.

 _In and out, in and out,_ her heart was whispering. _You're going on a date with James Potter. In and out, in and out._

Breaking that promise, she thought as she climbed through the portrait hole, felt sweet on her tongue, and the world felt electric beneath her fingertips.

'Night, Evans,' he said to her at the foot of the stairs that led up to the girl's dormitory.

'Goodnight, Potter.'

Perhaps, she thought as she climbed their stairs to her dormitory, she had just started something that she wouldn't be able to end. Breaking that promise, she had no way of knowing, had started something that wouldn't end for many, many years, and was the beginning of the end of her waning lifetime.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, that's just a very brief introduction to a fic I started a long time ago and never got the chance to finish. There's not a lot to garner from the first chapter so I'm uploading it just to see what reaction I get before I continue writing.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! I know that was very brief (especially considering the embarrassing length of chapters I usually write) but at the moment _Stuck On a Puzzle_ is my writing priority so if I don't get any reviews for this chapter I may just leave it here as a one shot.**

 **Once again, _thank you, thank you, thank you_ for reading, and if you would like the next chapter please let me know in a review! Love always.**


	2. Heart

_20/02/2017_

* * *

 ** _Phoenix_**

"His madness was not of the head, but heart."  
Lord Byron, _Lara_

* * *

'We're going to die.'

This was a phrase that James Potter used often, but he very rarely meant it. The world didn't have the nerve to kill them, as Sirius would often reply when faced with one of the many and frequent predicaments they found themselves in that swung much too far towards death-defying for the comfort of the common man.

Seven years of broken limbs courtesy of the whomping willow and minutes without breath when swimming in the lake resulted in being dragged under by some dark and terrible creature and long bouts of incapacity from duelling in the school corridors had numbed in the four of them to what was so fine-tuned in their more sensible peers; their instinct to survive.

Was it possible that the stubborn, thumping muscle in each of their chests had willed itself through so many moments when it threatened to stop that it no longer faltered under the same tests as other hearts? Was it possible that that dark, hidden cells in their brains responsible for a fear of death had endured such thorough exposures that they had somehow shrivelled into disconnect when in other minds they thrived so well?

It wasn't until the age of eighteen that James knew, truly and deeply and fully, what it was to fear death. It wasn't until he looked upon the three boys who flanked him, brothers bound not by blood but by nerve, and saw three souls on the verge of annihilation.

'We're going to die.'

'Perhaps,' said Peter.

'Probably,' said Remus, and they had raised their wands.

James Potter knew little of war until he was eighteen years old, which in a world more perfect than ours would be far too young for a soul to know anything of war. He had once deafened himself to any mention of the war, blinded himself to newspaper headings, because how could a being such as James Potter look upon injustice and be at peace in his complacency?

He had once lived and breathed in hell and fire and sin, but by his nineteenth birthday he was living on borrowed time and a razor's edge.

 _Will it be today?_ he would ask himself as he threw himself towards death. _Let me have another day._

But these other days were limited and death rushed to meet him, swarmed upon him and his lover and his brothers and their allies. They dropped like flies in the closing days of the war, one after the other, and James Potter made his peace with his demise, because he had had years to train for it.

How cruel the world was that his fate had been sealed only after he had begun living, only after he had known love and a child and how Lily Evans tasted on his tongue. Cruel the world was that the day he sealed his fate was the day he knew he needed her. Cruel the world was that the day he knew he needed her was the day he knew he would be fighting until his last breath. Cruel the world was that on the 26th of May 1978 James Potter would find himself drinking with Ted Tonks and he would know that his days of complacency were over.

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 **A/N: Woah, another chapter! I still can't promise you guys this will turn into a full-fledged story but I definitely have some more writing done that I may post later. If you would like to read more please let me know in a review!**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading! xx**


	3. Each Other

_10/09/2017_

* * *

 _ **Phoenix**_

"They had leaned on each other and laughed until tears had come, while everyone else – the cold and where he'd go in it - was outside, for a while anyway."  
Raymond Carver, _Distance and Other Stories_

* * *

Ted Tonks, while perhaps not a handsome man in the generic use of the term, was decidedly pleasant looking. He had a mop of blond hair that seemed to have been allowed to grow freely without much tending and now hung to his shoulders. His fair face and arms were smattered with large, dark freckles at such a quantity that they sat thickly enough to almost resemble a suntan. He had a reassuring sort of smile, unassuming and not very serious, that spread across his face frequently to reveal wide, uneven teeth. He gave the impression, at least to James Potter, that very little worried him. He gave the impression, with his slow rhythmic voice and northern accent, that nothing all too awful could occur within his vicinity.

Until that morning on Saturday the 26th of May, 1978, James Potter had known Ted Tonks as nothing more than the Muggle-born that Anna Black had eloped with.

'What's that?' he had asked in an undertone, inclining himself to Ted so the other patrons would not overhear. 'What's the Order?'

Ted was prevented from replying by the sharp look his wife gave him. Andromeda Tonks looked immaculate even when she was scowling.

Despite knowing them so well through stories of dismay relayed by Sirius, the couple had not been what he had been expecting. Happier than he would have imagined, softer and not so tragic as rumours would have him believe. He was introduced to them beneath the dim candlelight of the squalid inn on Saturday the 26th of May 1978.

He had been waiting for that day for what felt like months, but was in truth more close to years. He had been waiting for that day since that summer when he had hoisted Severus Snape into the air by his ankles and Lily Evans had told him to stop. He had been waiting for that day since he first felt that burn of lust and longing when he knew that he wanted her, because Saturday the 26th of May 1978 was the day that James and Lily Potter would remember as their first date.

The many incarnations of this date that arose in James's imaginations, first beginning in fourth year when Lily Evans had hexed Mulciber and James had thought to himself _she's not so bad_ , none of them came close to resembling what transgressed on Saturday the 26th of May 1978.

* * *

On Saturday, the 26th of May, James Potter had never heard the name Antonin Dolohov, and knew Rodolphus Lestrange only as the husband of Sirius's mad cousin, but within a year he would know them both well; within a year he would have ducked away from their killing curses and fired his wand at them as he fled for his life.

On Saturday, the 26th of May, the _Daily_ _Prophet_ arrived with its front page smattered with news of the death of nineteen Muggles in Winchester. What the _Prophet_ did not report that it was Antonin Dolohov and Rodolphus Lestrange had orchestrated said murders, backed by a hoard of nameless underlings.

 _NINETEEN DEAD IN WINCHESTER ATTACK_ proclaimed the front of Remus Lupin's morning paper and the prefect felt his heart pound in his chest and he inclined over the table and spread out the _Prophet_ over their plates of toast, calling his comrades to attention.

'I said forget it, Padfoot.'

'But you _promised_ , Prongs.'

'I didn't know I'd have other plans!'

'Look at this,' said Remus, brandishing the paper at them.

'I don't see why you can't just bring her along.'

'How do you think she's gonna take to that idea? She's bloody scary when she's mad, you know.'

'Shut up, the pair of you,' demanded Remus. 'Look.'

The photograph on the paper's front page bearing a city street condensed to rubble brought them to a halt. The investigating officers were confunded into believing a gas leak was to blame. Minister for Magic Harold Minchum offered his condolences to Prime Minister James Callaghan. In the weeks to come, the Muggle parliamentarians would push for an inquiry into faulty gas lines and the Auror Office would begin its own investigation, which would quickly hit a dead end. The names of the dead would not make it into any Wizarding publications.

'Shit,' said James.

'Fuck,' said Sirius.

'It's just going to keep getting worse, isn't it?' said Peter.

Remus was silent. His aunt lived in Winchester.

'Minchum needs to do something,' proclaimed James, as if he was the first to suggest such a thing. 'That makes forty dead this year alone and the Ministry's still pretending these lunatics are some vague annoyance.'

'Yeah, but what can he do?' said Sirius. 'He doesn't have enough support in the Wizengamot. They're not gonna have any obligation to help until it's witches and wizards that start getting killed.'

'They already have,' growled James. 'They just haven't been able to link it back to the Death Eaters.'

'I'm going to the owlery,' Remus announced, getting to his feet. 'To write to my mum.'

'I'll come with you,' said Peter, who was looking at Remus as if expecting him to faint.

They departed and James snatched up Remus's abandoned paper, scanning the article, beginning to read aloud for Sirius.

'Don't,' he warned the head boy. 'I don't want to know. It's too depressing.'

'Fine.'

'Eat your bacon,' Sirius instructed, 'and let's get back to what you're going to do about Evans.'

* * *

Up in Gryffindor tower, Lily Evans was braiding her hair. The elation she had felt upon waking had been sucked from her with the arrival of Mary MacDonald, who had flown into the dormitory brandishing the morning paper.

'Have you seen this?' she demanded of her dorm-mate. 'Another lot dead.'

Lily took the paper and scanned the article. 'Oh, God.'

Mary collapsed onto her four-poster, watching the head girl as she read. 'Lily, you can't wear that.'

Lily tore her eyes from the paper to glance down at herself. 'Why not?'

'You like too virginal. Put on something with just a smidge of vigour.'

Lily referred to Hestia. 'Hestia, do I look too virginal?'

Hestia paused in her lipstick application to cast the redhead a rather withering look. 'Yes, dear. As always.'

Scowling, Lily tossed the paper away and crossed to the trunk lying at the foot of her bed to search for a stand-in for the yellow sundress she had selected that morning.

'I can't believe you're dating James Potter,' Marlene McKinnon told her wistfully. 'It's so cute.'

'It's horrid, is what it is,' said Mary.

'One drink,' said Lily bitterly. 'Not dating. _One drink_. Is that so terrible?'

They told her that it was, that she had abandoned her morals, that she had gone soft, that she ought to keep a closer eye on her morning pumpkin juice to discourage slips of love potion, but when the time came to give their blessing to the tartan skirt and tan turtleneck Lily had donned they did so.

Marlene McKinnon and Hestia Fortescue were not to know that their reservations towards Lily's plans on their final Hogsmeade trip were not without their merit. Marlene McKinnon and Hestia Fortescue were not to know that by James Potter's utterance of _do you have plans this Saturday_ had changed the course of history.

Marlene McKinnon and Hestia Fortescue were not to know that James Potter, who in the past they had been far more apt at tolerating than the girl he would marry had been, would stand alongside them as they threw themselves into battle. Marlene McKinnon and Hestia Fortescue were not to know that history would know them well.

Marlene McKinnon and Hestia Fortescue were only to know, as almost anyone who was asked could tell you, that this was indeed a very bad idea.

* * *

'It wasn't my idea,' he told her. 'If I could get out of it I would.'

'It's alright,' she told him, though it was the furthest thing from alright she could think of.

'I'd much sooner do something else,' he continued, as if she hadn't spoken, 'only I did promise.'

'Yes, I know.'

'He asked me weeks ago. I totally forgot about it. I'd never had said yes if I had no idea we'd be – have made plans.'

She nodded, straightening the hem of her skirt. 'Where are we meeting them?'

'Er – you heard of the Hog's Head?'

Lily's nose wrinkled. 'Oh, yeah, it's, um… eccentric.'

'Eccentric as it can get,' said James. 'Sirius picked it. He doesn't want to run into anyone.'

'Oh, okay.'

'His family's mental, you know? He can't bear to see them alone – not that his cousin's mental. I mean, I haven't met her, but I'm sure you'll like her. She's very – er – regal.'

Lily frowned at this, and he did not blame her, but she managed to nod none the less. 'It's okay. I understand.'

'You don't mind, do you?'

'Course not,' she said bracingly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 'Shall we go, then?'

'Sure. Sirius is waiting downstairs.'

* * *

 _Dear Sirius,_ the letter had read. _Can you ever forgive me?_

'Fuck no,' he had muttered, but it had been a lie.

 _I would like to see you and I hope you feel the same. When is your next Hogsmeade weekend? Ted and I will meet you in the village._

'He's going to murder you in your sleep tonight for making him do this. You do know that, right?'

'You don't get an opinion, Moony,' snapped Sirius. ' _Study day._ You both sicken me. It's our last ever Hogsmeade visit.'

'Nine days, Sirius.'

'Tell me, Lupin, what is it you're going to have to live for once you can no longer deliver a real-time countdown to exams?'

'Don't start,' said Peter. 'Moony, are we going to the library or what?'

'Hold on. I want to see if Lily actually shows up. For all we know this could all be a figment of James's imagination.'

Sirius sniggered. 'God, I hope it's true. The blow-out from this one's gonna be to die for.'

'How long do you think it will last?' asked Peter.

'Oh, I reckon she'll have hexed him before we even make it down to the village,' said Sirius jovially.

'I'll give him the benefit of the doubt,' said Remus. 'He's been killing himself trying to hold his tongue around her since first term. I reckon he'll make it to a second date.'

Sirius looked alarmed. 'You're joking.'

'Second date,' said Remus, 'and then they'll realise they're innately incompatible and never mention each other's names ever again.'

Peter sighed. 'That would be too good to be true. Imagine a world in which we don't have to listen to daily updates on Lily Evans's every move.'

'You seem confident, Remus,' said Sirius. 'Care to make a bet?'

Remus cocked an eyebrow. 'How much?'

'Oh, Merlin,' muttered Peter.

'A galleon?' offered Sirius.

'And what's the bet exactly?'

'Whether or not the date is a disaster.'

'Too subjective,' dismissed Remus. 'Even if it _is_ a disaster you know James is going to say it was brilliant just to shut us up. We need more specifics.'

'Whether they kiss?' suggested Peter hopefully.

'Boring,' said Sirius. 'How about whether they shag?'

Peter groaned. 'James is gonna kill you both.'

'I wouldn't give James that much credit,' said Remus. 'How about whether they make it to a second date?'

'Yeah, but who knows how long that'll take? I don't want to be waiting too long for my money, Lupin. I don't really plan to dick around with you lot anymore once school's finished, you see.'

Peter looked alarmed. 'Why not? What did we do?'

'Here he comes,' said Remus, glancing up the marble staircase. 'Second date. Take it or leave it.'

Sirius scowled up at the head boy and girl descending the stairs, before he grabbed Remus's hand and gave it a vigorous shake. 'Fine. Deal.'

'Morning, Lily,' said Peter as she and James reached them.

'Hi, Peter,' said Lily warmly, though she was eyeing him and Remus rather suspiciously. 'Are you and Remus coming too?'

'Wish we could,' said Remus. 'Study day.'

'Oh, that's a shame. Morning, Sirius.'

'Morning, Evans. Excited?'

'Oh, very much so. I've always wanted to meet your cousin and now the day's finally here.'

She said this brightly, though there was definite edge in her voice and James seemed to wither slightly beside her.

'Well,' he said hurriedly, before Sirius had the chance to retort, 'we may as well get going, yeah?'

'Brilliant idea, Prongs,' said Sirius.

'Excellent,' said Peter.

'Have fun,' said Remus, offering Lily a rather sympathetic smile, before they started off out of the entrance hall.

* * *

Saturday, the 26th of May 1978, appeared to many to be a mundane sort of day, but not for others.

For nineteen families in Winchester, the 26th of May 1978 marked the worst day of their lives.

For Lily Evans, the 26th of May 1978 marked the worst first date she had ever endured.

For James Potter, the 26th of May 1978 marked the day he would stare at Ted Tonks across the beer-stained table and know that his days of complacency were over.

For Regulus Black, the 26th of May 1978 marked the beginning of the end.

'To the Dark Lord.'

Arms mirroring each other's, goblets raised to the roof, the gathered men echoed back: 'To the Dark Lord.'

Regulus didn't like toasts – it prolonged the wait before he could begin drinking. He liked mead very much; he liked that he didn't have too think too hard when he drank enough. Things were simpler when he was drunk.

But he couldn't afford to today – he would need to be back in the village before anyone began to miss him.

'And to Antonin and Rodolphus,' continued Lucius Malfoy, 'faithful servants of our master.'

At this a round of barked cheers sounded around the room. Regulus was silent, eyes on Malfoy, waiting for him to lead them in raising their goblets to their lips.

'You have done well today,' Malfoy informed the two lauded wizards, who had been given the place of honour at the room's centre beside the hearth. 'Today we take another step towards achieving the Dark Lord's vision.'

What did killing Muggles do for the Dark Lord's vision other than rouse wizards into opposition? If he had been older – if he had the same favour with their master as Malfoy did – he would have been able to speak his mind. He would have been able to suggest – no, been able to _insist_ – that murders in the shadows were a thing of the past. They had the numbers now to do something greater.

'And lastly,' continued Malfoy, a wry smile twisting across his pointed face, 'to our new recruits. Today they have proven, without a doubt, their devotion to the Dark Lord. You five – stand up so we can see you.'

Around him his housemates rose to their feet. Rabastan was grinning like a fool. Avery and Mulciber seemed to be bearing their muscles.. Snape looked as a sallow as ever.

'I won't lie to you, the coming months will not be easy,' continued Malfoy. The smile had vanished from Malfoy's face now. His grey eyes bore into them, dark and warning, his drawling voice reduced to a venomous hiss. 'But together we will rise victorious. We will bring forth a new world for magical kind, and this purge begins today.'

There was another cry of approval from around the room. Mulciber and Avery howled their ascent. Bellatrix was cackling with delight from her perch on the arm of her husband's chair, running her claw-like nails through his lank hair. Malfoy threw back his drink and his guests followed suit, Regulus draining his goblet.

Narcissa emerged from the corner of the room where she had been waiting, sitting apart from the gathered Death Eaters, sitting rigidly with a bottle of mead clasped between her ivory hands. She weaved her way through the crowd, refilling their drinks as she went. Regulus could see her hands shaking as she topped up his goblet.

'Thanks, Cissy.'

He gave her a smile she did not return.

'Does your mother know you're drinking?'

'She wouldn't care.'

Narcissa's pale, blue eyes were fixed upon him. She had gotten thinner since getting married, and Regulus thought she looked older than she ought to. She moved with a sort of stiffness he believed should only be found in women his mother's age, a severity in her manner that did not suit her. She did not move off to tend to the other empty goblets but stayed at his side, and Regulus had the peculiar impression she had something to tell him.

'Narcissa.'

Her husband's voice made her jump. He appeared at their side, his hand closing around her arm, and the jolt Narcissa's made slopped mead from the bottle onto the carpet. Lucius appeared not to notice.

'The Dark Lord is close,' he informed his wife. 'Go tell the house elves to have the room ready, but be sure they are gone when he gets there.'

'Yes, Lucius.'

She made to move away, but Lucius's clasp on her arm did not relent. 'Did you hear me?' said Lucius in his slow, silky drawl. 'I don't want them to be seen, understand?'

'Yes, of course, Lucius.'

Lucius relinquished his hold on his wife (Regulus could have sworn he saw Narcissa pulling herself out of his grip) and he took the bottle of wine off her as she scurried out of the drawing room.

'Drink up, Regulus,' Lucius told him with a smile, and Regulus did as he was told. Lucius topped up his goblet once more. 'Are you ready?'

* * *

'Are you drunk?'

'No.'

'Don't lie, Regulus. I'm not an idiot. I know when you're drunk.'

'Then why are you asking?'

He shouldn't have said it, but what did it really matter? What could this little girl before him do to him after what he had done?

'Fine,' she snarled. 'I'll leave you to it then.'

'Dorcas, wait.'

He caught her hand, forcing her back to face him. He could feel eyes of the passing villagers upon them. 'I'm sorry.'

She tossed her dark curls over her shoulder and pursed her lips. 'Good. You should be.'

What a child she was. How little she knew of him – how little she knew of his world. It would almost have been worth telling her the things he had seen and done purely for the satisfaction of seeing the horror across her face; seeing her eyes widen, seeing her dark cheeks streaked with tears, hearing her ask him _why_.

'I'm sorry I was late,' he told her.

'Are you going to tell me where you were?'

'Rabastan wanted a drink.'

'I told you not to lie to me.'

She was smart, at least. He couldn't deny that. Much smarter than he was, so why hadn't she figured it out? Why didn't she ask him? If only she would ask him and then he could tell her.

'Let's go back to the castle,' he said to her. 'My dorm will be empty.'

She let out a mirthless laugh. 'You think I want to go to your dorm? What is wrong with you?'

'Can we talk about this somewhere else?'

'Why? Are you embarrassed?'

'No, that's not what I meant –'

'Well, you should be. It's not even lunchtime and you're totally _pissed_.'

'I am not.'

'Yes, you are! I want to know why you're lying to me!'

'I'm not lying to you.'

She turned on her heel and started away. He followed in pursuit, catching her as she turned off the main road into a side street, closing his hand around her arm.

'Dorcas, wait.'

'Get off me, Regulus.'

'Look at me.'

'I said get off me!'

Her free hand went for her wand and he seized both her wrists in an iron grip. She swore at him. He forced her against the wall of the laneway, pinning her against the bricks. There was no fear in her eyes as there had been in Narcissa's: only fury.

'Were you going to curse me?' he hissed at her.

'Get the fuck off her!'

Regulus turned to find the tip of a wand pointed squarely between his eyes. His hands snapped back from Dorcas's wrists and he stepped away from her, raising his hands as a gesture of innocence.

'I didn't touch her.'

Sirius's face was twisted with anger, his wand hand shaking as he stared down at the younger Black. 'You're sick, you know, Regulus?'

'Put your wand away,' snapped Dorcas. 'You're making an idiot of yourself.'

James Potter stepped forward from behind Sirius, laying a hand on his dorm-mate's shoulder. 'Sirius, put it away, mate.'

'I'd listen to him if I were you,' advised Regulus. The mead coursing through him had loosened his tongue. He was in the mood for a fight, and while he knew he couldn't reach his wand before Sirius would be able to curse him, he also knew that no matter how much Dorcas loathed him in that moment her pride would win out; she would not allow Sirius to curse him without raising her own in his defence.

'You see the paper today, Regulus?' snarled Sirius. 'Dead Muggles get you excited, is that it?'

'I did more than read the paper, Sirius.'

Sirius's face flooded with rage and he opened his mouth, but before he could bellow the course Potter had stepped between them. 'Sirius, _don't_.'

'Sirius,' came the voice of Lily Evans, now appearing at Sirius's side, her hands on his arm. 'Sirius, come on, we're going to be late…'

Seconds passed in which the two Black brothers stared at each other, their hearts pounding, curses on the tips of their tongues. It was the hypocrisy that made it worse, Regulus decided; it wasn't Dorcas that Sirius cared about, but the chance to override his younger brother. If it had been any other bloke with her pinned against the wall, Regulus was sure Sirius would not have intervened.

Seconds passed in blistering silence before Sirius lowered his wand. 'Fine,' he said, and Regulus knew he was fighting to keep his voice even. 'They'll get what's coming to them anyway.'

And he pushed past Potter towards the mouth of the lane, leaving his two housemates in his wake. The Gryffindors exchanged glances with each other before Potter reached for Evans's shoulder, ready to lead her away, but she did not permit him to, turning to face Dorcas.

'Are you alright?' she asked.

'Fuck off, Evans.'

Lily looked undeterred. 'You don't have to stay here.'

'I'd stop talking if you know what's good for you,' warned Dorcas.

Potter squeezed Evans's shoulder. 'Lily, come on.'

And this time she obeyed, giving Dorcas one last sorry look that Regulus knew the latter would have despised. He watched the two Gryffindors traipse away after Sirius, leaving him alone once more with his girlfriend.

'Potter and his Mudblood,' Regulus's muttered. 'I shouldn't have let them go.'

Dorcas rounded on him, her dark eyes set upon him piercingly. 'What's happened to you?'

And with that she too turned away.

* * *

James respected Anna Black a great deal, but he did not expect to like her.

 _'She's a lot like the rest of them,_ ' Sirius had told him. _'Stuck up, you know?_ '

' _Only she doesn't want to kill Muggles_ ,' Peter had reminded him.

Andromeda Tonks looked just as he had expected her to; beautiful, immaculate, and thoroughly out of place beneath the weak torchlight of the grimy inn. When they stepped inside she rose, fluid and graceful, and rushed to Sirius, enveloping him in a fierce hug which the Gryffindor did not return.

James had expected as much. For the most part, the school year had been absent of the blazing rows and duals that had erupted between the two brothers the year after Sirius had left home. After a week spent in the hospital wing had been topped off with threats of expulsion the previous May, each brother had taken mostly to denying the other's existence and pointedly avoiding looking at the other whenever they were to pass in the corridors.

But now the wound appeared to have been re-opened.

'I shouldn't have let him go,' Sirius had said to them on the walk to the pub. 'I should go after him.'

James and Lily had protested profusely.

'That's what he wants you to do,' James insisted.

'Did you hear what he said?' Sirius demanded. ' _I did more than read the paper_.'

'He was trying to upset you, Sirius, surely,' said Lily desperately. 'He's not worth it.'

'Christ, Evans, don't you get it?' Sirius spat at her. 'He wants you dead. You and all the other Muggle-borns.'

At this James had given a warning 'Shut up, Padfoot' and put the debate to an end. They made the rest of the walk to the Hog's Head in silence, Sirius fuming and Lily looking anxious and James glaring at the back of his dorm-mate's head.

Andromeda appeared undeterred by Sirius's lack of enthusiasm and, without a glance towards James and Lily, she seized her cousin's hand and steered him back to the table she had been sitting at. James and Lily exchanged glances and followed.

'This is Ted,' Andromeda proclaimed, gesturing to the man at the table, who rose to shake Sirius's hand.

'G'day,' said Ted, beaming broadly. It did not seem to faze him that in order to simulate a handshake between the pair he had to seize Sirius's hand from right his side and give it a rough jiggle. 'Great to meet you, finally.'

When it became apparent Sirius had no intention of returning the sentiment, James stepped forward and offered Andromeda her hand. 'I'm James. Nice to meet you.'

To Andromeda's credit, she seemed taken aback for only a second, before she took James's hand. 'A pleasure, James.'

'And this is Lily.'

They exchanged greeting, faultlessly polite, before silence ensued. James pulled out a chair at their beer-stained table. Placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder, he forced him down into the it, before he took his own seat. Lily followed suit.

'Well,' said Ted eagerly, 'I think this calls for drinks. You're all seventeen, aren't you?'

James and Lily assured him they were and he waved them off.

'Only joking. I was gonna buy you drinks anyway. So, what's your poison?'

'Er – pint of ale, but I'll get it,' said James.

'Don't even think about it. And for you?'

'Oh… um, just another ale,' said Lily.

'And you, Sirius?'

'Shot of fire whiskey.'

'Good choice. I'll be back.' And he stood and crossed the pub to the counter. He returned a moment later levitating their drinks and offered them out, receiving their thanks in return.

'Well, perhaps we should toast,' said Andromeda brightly, raising her glass of mead.

'Brilliant idea, darling,' said Ted. 'What shall we toast to? To good health?'

'To family,' said Andromeda severely.

The couple chinked their glasses. James and Lily returned the gesture, trying not to take note of the questionable marks on what they suspected were unwashed glasses. Sirius raised his fire-whiskey and downed it, before crossing to the bar and returning with a pint of ale for himself.

'So tell me how you've been, Sirius,' urged Andromeda. 'It's been so long. We've missed so much, and you've never even met Dora.'

Sirius sipped his ale. 'Who's Dora?'

Andromeda swelled with pride. 'Out daughter. Nymphadora.'

Sirius let out a bark of laughter and Andromeda's eyes shot to him. When riled she looked very much like Sirius, thought James.

'Oh, that's a pretty name,' said Lily cheerfully. 'How old is she?'

'Nearly five.'

Lily let out a soft 'aw'. This, James thought, may have been overdoing it.

'She's becoming a handful,' said Ted fondly. 'She burst out laughing the other day and all our wine glasses burst.'

'That happened to me, too,' said Lily. 'My sister took my doll and when I started crying all the light-bulbs in our house exploded.'

'Oh, you're Muggle-born, are you?' asked Ted.

Lily's cheeks flushed. James saw her shoot a look towards Andromeda, as if anticipating some display of disgust, before she gave a hesitant nod.

'Me, too,' said Ted, and Lily looked immensely relieved. 'No relatives in Winchester, by any chance?'

Lily's face fell. 'No, thank Merlin. Wasn't that awful?'

'Disgusting,' said Ted. 'Makes you think, doesn't it? Could be anyone you or I know.'

'Oh, let's not talk about that,' said Andromeda briskly. 'Sirius, what NEWTs are you taking?'

'I, for one, am proud to say I didn't vote for Minchum,' continued Ted. 'If you ask me he should be doing everything he can to get this Voldemort bloke in line.'

'Ted, _shh!'_ hissed Andromeda, casting a wary glance towards the warlocks at the next table. 'People don't like hearing that name.'

'He Who Must Not Be Named, they're calling him now,' said James. 'Pathetic, isn't it? He must be compensating for something.'

Ted and Lily laughed. Sirius gave a sniff of disdain and finished his pint.

'I'm getting another drink,' said Sirius.

'Oh, I'll pay,' said Andromeda immediately.

'Don't bother.'

And he trudged off towards the bar to return a moment later with a pint glass and jug of ale. He poured himself a drink, drank deeply, and topped up the pint once more.

'Sooner Minchum's out of office the better,' said James. 'I hope that bird from the Auror Office runs in 1980. I'd vote for her.'

Lily grimaced. 'Millicent Bagnold? You like her?'

'You don't?'

Lily shook her head. 'She's the one that tried to get the Wizengamot to grant aurors the right to use Unforgivable Curses.'

'Yeah, but if they have any hope of stopping Voldemort then they have to,' said James. 'They deserve what's coming to them.'

'But where do you draw the line?' asked Lily. 'Will it be okay to use them on smugglers or thieves or kids who use magic out of school?'

James rolled his eyes. 'That's a big jump. They'd only be using them in extreme situations.'

'Sinking to their level doesn't solve anything,' said Lily. 'An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.'

'Very profound, Evans. Is that Shakespeare?'

'Gandhi,' said Lily tersely.

'Who?'

'He was – oh, don't worry,' sighed Lily. 'Don't they teach you _anything_ in Muggle studies?'

'Not really, no.'

'Well, perhaps if they did people like You-Know-Who wouldn't have the followers he does.'

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, half-way through his second pint. 'That's lovely, Evans,' he told her. 'Let's get Voldemort down here for a nice sit-down and you can explain to him that Muggles really aren't that different from us.'

Lily scowled at him. 'Would your solution be to just kill them all, then?'

'I don't see why not,' said Sirius flatly.

Lily gave a sigh of exasperation. 'Because that doesn't solve anything! You can't just kill people who disagree with you! You have to educate them before they get the chance to start killing!'

'Well, that's all very well and good, Lily,' said James, 'but if they're blowing up streets in Winchester I think it might be a bit late for that. It's in the hands of the aurors now – or at least it would be if they had any clue what the hell to do about it.'

Sirius drained the last of his ale. 'So I guess that means we're all fucked.'

Ted merely chortled. 'I don't think that's the case just yet.'

'You think Bagnold might have a chance of getting into office?' asked James.

'Oh, no clue, lad,' said Ted. 'But I don't think people are just going to bend over and let Voldemort have his way. There are people all over the Wizarding World starting to fight back. Some of them are doing things like you were saying, Lily: making an effort to bridge the gaps between wizarding and Muggle societies. Other people are in the thick of it – doing the job that the aurors aren't.'

'Bullshit,' snapped Sirius.

'Not so, Sirius,' said Ted pleasantly.

'Well, where are they then?' demanded Sirius. 'Where were they this morning in Winchester?'

'Couldn't tell you that. All I know is that they're out there.'

'How would you know?'

Ted smiled at him, and when he spoke again he dropped his voice so as not to be overheard by the next table. 'Because I've met them. Turned down offers to join them, actually.'

James and Sirius were silent, staring at Ted in awe as the man reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a tin of rolling tobacco. 'You three smoke?' he asked.

'Wait,' said James slowly, 'they asked you to join? _Who_ asked you to join?'

Ted lit his rolled cigarette and passed the tin of tobacco into Sirius's waiting hand. 'Friends of mine in the Order.'

'What's that?' demanded James. 'What's the Order?'

Ted was silenced by the sharp look Andromeda gave him, and she said to him curtly, 'Ted, weren't we going to speak to Sirius about the summer?'

Ted gave a warn smile. 'Yes, dear, I believe we were.'

'Good,' said Andromeda resolutely, turning back to Sirius. 'Sirius, Ted and I wanted to ask you something.'

Sirius gave a grunt to show he was listening before lighting his cigarette and sinking back into his chair.

'We've heard you're not living at home anymore.'

'Who told you that?' growled Sirius.

'Old school friend of mine,' said Ted. 'Frank Longbottom. His parents are friends with yours, actually, James.'

Andromeda nodded. 'And while I'm sure Mr and Mrs Potter have been very good to you, Ted and I were wondering if – if perhaps after school, if you needed a place to stay…'

'We've got a spare room at our place,' finished Ted.

'Lovely,' said Sirius, 'But I've got my own place now. Dear Uncle Alphard left me gold when he kicked off.'

'Oh,' said Andromeda softly. 'That was sweet of him.'

'Wanted to get back at Walburga for taking all the silver out of their mum's place, I bet.'

'Perhaps,' said Andromeda. 'You know, until Frank told us… Well, that's why it took so long for me to write to you. I wasn't sure if – if you were still at home.'

'Weren't sure if I'd joined Voldemort, that's what you mean.'

Andromeda hesitated. 'Well, you were so young when I left. I didn't know if perhaps, as you'd gotten older, you would have seen your parents' side of things…'

' _Side of things_ ,' spat Sirius. 'Say what it is, Anna. They're Death Eaters, the whole lot of them. I didn't think you'd have any trouble calling them what they are.'

'You're right,' said Andromeda solemnly. 'But you don't need them anymore. Ted and I-'

Sirius gave a venomous laugh. 'I don't need _you_ either, Anna. I haven't been waiting around for six years hoping you'd write to me if that's what you think.'

'Sirius,' said James slowly, gesturing towards the jug of ale, 'slow down, mate.'

'Oh, shut up, James.'

'Shall we eat?' said Lily brightly, pointing to the menu above the bar. 'Ooh, look. Roasted potatoes.'

'Sirius,' continued Andromeda gently, 'I won't pretend I know what it was like growing up in that house for you and Regulus –'

And the name was enough for Sirius to slam his pint down on the table. Lily shrieked as it shattered. Ale and shards of glass flew over them. The bartender gave a bark from across the pub.

'For fuck's sake, Sirius,' hissed James, 'what's wrong with you?'

'Don't you dare talk to me about Regulus,' Sirius snarled down at his cousin. 'You don't know _shit_ , Anna. You don't know him and you don't know me.'

And with that he plucked his smoke from his mouth and tossed it down onto the table. It extinguished with a hiss in the ale-sodden shards of glass. Sirius turned on his heel and marched to the door, but not before giving the bellowing bartender the finger.

Andromeda gazed at the doorway that Sirius had disappeared through and got to her feet, as did Ted and James.

'I wouldn't,' James told her, raising a warning hand. 'Not when he's like this.'

But he went ignored. Andromeda was across the bar and out the door in an instant following in Sirius's wake, calling his name.

'I'll go with her,' Ted told them gently, 'we'll get him back.'

'You won't,' James informed him. 'Don't bother.'

Ted did nothing but smile and gave James's shoulder a clap in farewell. 'We'll get him.'

James watched him leave, his mind whirring, struggling to comprehend. It had fallen to pieces so quickly it was almost comical. He could have almost laughed at it – at Sirius's temper and Andromeda's eagerness and Ted's perpetual calmness. He could have almost laughed if he hadn't remembered the girl sitting at the table before him.

He raised his wand and wish a flick vanished the spilt ale and shattered glass. Bidding the bartender his apologies, he slumped back in his chair, running a weary hand through his hair.

'Should have taken one of those smokes,' he said numbly.

Lily was sitting rigidly in her seat, staring into the dregs of her pint glass. 'Is Sirius okay?'

'Oh, he's fine. He's a brat.'

'Should you go after him?'

'No, I'm not in the mood to get hexed.'

At this Lily looked startled. 'Should you warn Ted and Andromeda?'

'Nah, he saves that special treatment for me. They won't find him anyway. He will have apparated into the courtyard in the Three Broomsticks to meet Rosie.'

'Rosie?'

'Madam Rosmerta.'

Lily raised her eyebrows. 'Are they an item?'

'Not an item, per se. More an perpetual one night stand.'

'Charming.'

James forced a smile and sipped his pint, before he heaved a heavy sigh. 'Look, sorry about this.'

She glanced up at him. 'Sorry for what?'

'You know what, Evans.'

'Oh, it's not your fault.'

'Well, it's my fault you had to witness it.'

Lily returned to gazing into her pint glass. 'We can always do it again. Maybe just without so much… drama.' She drained the last of her ale and set the glass back down. 'I – oh.'

'What?'

Lily grimaced and held up her now-empty pint glass to show him the brown stain at the bottom.

'Oh, look at that – lovely,' said James serenely. 'Well, you can thank Sirius for the choice of venue, but you best be quick about it because I'm murdering him when we get back to the castle.'

Lily grinned and raised the glass to eye-level for further inspection. 'Oh, it doesn't matter – look, maybe it's good luck.'

'Good luck?'

'Yes, look… the stain looks a little like a four-leafed clover, don't you think?'

James shook his head. 'Evans, I know some people think your ray-of-sunshine demeanour is endearing, but you ought to pick your moments a little better.'

'No, no, look – there's the stem, and the leaves… Okay, not a four-leafed clover, but definitely a clover, don't you think?'

He glanced up at her. She was watching him with eager, green eyes, urging him to agree, willing him to set aside Sirius's outburst for the stain at the bottom of her glass.

'Right,' he said. 'Yeah, I see it – a three-leafed clover.'

'Perhaps not good luck as such, but clover's are certainly decent.'

'Actually, Evans, a common misconception is that it's the four-leafed clover's that are auspicious,' said James matter-of-factly, 'but what most people don't know is that it's the three-leafed clovers that really get the job done.'

'Oh, is that so?'

'Yeah, that four-leaf nonsense has been spread around to throw people of the scent.'

'Well, that's good to hear, because I don't find three-leaf clovers all that hard to come by.'

'You must be exceptionally lucky then, mustn't you, Evans?'

'Oh, yes, frightfully so,' she told him. 'So lucky, in fact, that I think we're very shortly going to find ourselves in a real pub getting a proper drink.'

'Trying to get me drunk, Evans?'

'I wouldn't need to try very hard.'

'And how would you know?'

'Oh, please, how many times have I seen you stumbling around at Quidditch parties making a fool of yourself?'

'See, that's not fair. You've seen me behave like a drunken moron and for all I know witnessed some truly humiliating misdemeanours on my part, but I've never got to see you anything other than tipsy when you come back from the Slug Club giggling with Remus.'

'That's because I don't do anything humiliating,' she declared. 'I'm a positively charming drunk.'

'I'll believe it when I see it.'

'Then what are you waiting for? Come on, I want a glass of mead.'

James cocked an eyebrow. 'I like where this is headed, Evans.'

She smiled and he returned it and they got to their feet. The barmen watched them leave, laughing together as they did so, their shoulders brushing against the others and they squeezed through the doorway and when they stepped out onto the street they found their hands grazing the others and their fingers found each other. Laughing, hand in hand, they started down the street together.

* * *

One day she would hold him as he was bleeding and try to speak.

'Hestia brought Megan around today,' she would tell him in a shaking voice. 'She has Alwyn's eyes, don't you think?'

And he would look at her with sorry eyes – truly sorry – and say in a rasping voice, 'I can't, Lily – I can't. Not tonight.'

And she would know what he meant, because they would all know what it meant when it came to those days. She would nod and wipe her eyes and inspect the place on his abdomen where the curse had made impact. She would tell him it didn't look so bad and help him to his feet.

He would lean on her up the stairs – _one at a time, not much further_ – and she would help with the clasp on his cloak. He would shrug her off, tell her he could manage, and she would hold her tongue, watching him wince as he undressed, watching his blood smear across their quilt cover as he climbed into bed.

They would lie in silence, each of them feigning sleep, each of them with their faces angled away from the others. When he thought she was sleeping he would reach for her in the night; touch her skin and her hair and wish he could tell her he was sorry – wish he could tell her he would take it all back and wish that he could mean it.

She would take his hand and wish she could tell him that she understood – that she didn't mind, that she had wanted this too, that she had agreed, that it had been her choice, that she didn't regret it, that this was their duty.

She would listen for the click of the lock at their front door or the sound of voices coming up the stairs and wonder if she would wake in the morning. She would drift in and out of sleep, lingering between dreaming and waking and conjuring up for herself visions of men coming for them in the night and she would remember back when they had slept beside each other without this fear. She would search through her mind to the months and years earlier when they had been safe, when they had held each other and said all they had to say, when they had breathed freely.

She would go back, further and further, urging herself to remember those days when they had lived and laughed; the first time they had kissed, the first time they had slept together, the first time he had told her he loved her and she had done the same; a lifetime's worth of days forced together, hurried and breathless in the fear that they wouldn't have time for it all unless it they did it then and there; a jumbled, misshapen shadow of adolescence that had flared and died too soon, too full and too heavy to distinguish between one day and another no matter how hard she tried to recall each moment, each second she had spent with him.

 _Let me remember. Let me have more._

She could die soon; she could die tomorrow; she could die as she slept; she could die beside him and he beside her. It would come too soon just as everything in their life had come too soon.

She would die wanting more, longing and pleading with her wand forgotten and James dead downstairs.

 _I like where this is headed, Evans._

He had reached for her hand – or had she reached for his? – and they had walked out of the little pub, side by side, fingers laced, shoulders bumping against the others. She couldn't recall what they had spoken about but she remembered laughing – remembered feeling terribly light and frightfully happy and something close to exhilarated. She liked him, and she had every reason to believe he liked her right back, and there was nothing to tell her that this was anything other than the beginning of something good.

She had wondered, as she climbed into her four-poster that evening, staring at the canopy and thinking of the kiss James had left on her cheek when he had bid her goodnight, what would become of them; when their next date would be, if he would ask her out again, if he would want to remain friends when school was over or if by then they would be something more than friends.

She wondered if they would tire of each other quickly, and she wondered if they would not, and she wondered if they would ever have sex and wondered, if they did so, what would it be like? She wondered what he shagged like and what he kissed like and what he would be like if she ever got to know him fully and truly and deeply.

She wondered if he was wondering the same about her and wondered if she would disappoint him or if he would disappoint her.

She wondered through all these questions and queries and fantasies and fears and landed at hopefulness and drifted into sleep. She wondered what the future held, and in the realm of possibilities she conjured for herself she could not have dreamt, in the darkest and wildest of nightmares, what was to come.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh my god, an update! And thing's happen! Amazing!**

 **This chapter's back to my typical (embarrassing) length so if you got through it then thank you so much and you have all my love!**

 **I'm kind of nervous about this chapter so if you could take the time to review and let me know what you thought I'd really appreciate it! x**


	4. Courage to Commit

_06/01/2018_

* * *

 ** _Phoenix_**

"You will always be fond of you. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."

Oscar Wilde, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_

* * *

In 1969, Lily Evans stole her sister's red nail polish and a note was sent home from the primary school. The covers of her school books were adorned with large, scarlet lettering, citing mantras copied from the protest signs she saw on the evening news.

 _BAN THE BOMB_

 _NO MORE HIROSHIMAS_

 _NIRVANA NOW_

Her mother tossed the books in the kitchen bin and dragged her out of the house by the wrist to buy more. She didn't receive pocket money for the next month until the cost of the replacement books had been repaid.

In 1969, James Potter was given his first racing broom.

In 1970, Lily Evans set down her knife and fork and looked across the kitchen table at her father. His half-finished cigarette lay in an ashtray at the centre of the table, wafting smoke between them, put on hiatus as he ate his supper.

'Dad?'

'Yes, my dear?'

'If London got bombed, would we feel it here?'

Petunia gave a great sigh of protest. 'Why does she always talk about this?'

'Lily,' began her mother, 'where do you get these ideas?'

'The news said-'

'I've told you not to watch the news when we're not with you,' scolded Irene.

'I didn't!' Lily insisted, but under her father's probing gaze she offered up: 'I bought the paper on the way home from school.'

Irene wore the same pained expression she wore whenever her daughter did something inexplicably. 'Oh, Lily.'

'London's not going to be bombed, Lily,' assured her father.

'Ninety thousand people died when Hiroshima got bombed,' said Lily indignantly.

'Lily, be quiet.'

'Mum, it's true! The encyclopaedia said so.'

'Lily,' snapped her mother, and her voice was venomous now, 'I told you to be quiet.'

'But-'

'Lily Evans, stop talking about things you don't understand and go to bed.'

That night Lily Evans climbed into bed, pressed her face into her pillow and began to cry.

'Lily, stop it,' her sister hissed at her across the blackened bedroom. 'You're keeping me awake.'

Lily Evans cried until she slept, and when she slept she dreamt of her mother and father and sister and a bomb falling on Cokeworth. In the dream her roof caved in and her sister screamed and rubble enveloped them.

When the dust cleared she climbed out from the rubble and walked into the street, and in the street she saw the asphalt had been cracked, and the biggest crack ran down the centre of the road, the width of Lily's hand. Within the crack Lily could see bare, brown earth, and from the earth a sunflower was growing.

In her nightgown, Lily Evans walked to it and put a finger to the soft, dark centre.

 _It's like Sev's eyes_ , she thought to herself. _Brown like Sev's._

She looked around at the rubble and said to herself: _This is what Muggles do, and I'm not a Muggle._

In 1970, James Potter saw England win the Quidditch World Cup, the first and last time he would do so. (Their next victory would be in 1982.)

In 1970, Lily Evans woke to find a sunflower beneath her pillow. She pressed a finger to the brown centre.

She climbed out of bed and took herself down the passageway into the kitchen. Irene was at the stove top, stirring a pot of porridge, and when Lily opened the door she looked over her shoulder, saw who it was, and turned back to pot without a word.

'Mum,' said Lily, moving to her side and extending her hand in front of her mother's face, clutching the sunflower. 'This is for you.'

Irene's brow pinched. She set down the stirring spoon and raised a hand to grasp the stem of the flower. 'Oh, Lily, it's beautiful.'

'You and Dad were right. I'm sorry.'

'Where did you get the flower?'

'I made it,' said Lily. 'I took it home from my dream.'

Her mother looked at her. Lily couldn't decide if she was proud or terrified. Irene set the sunflower down on the kitchen counter and wrapped her arms around her dinner. She placed a kiss upon the top of her head and said into her hair: 'What are we going to do with you?'

In 1971, James Potter received a Hogwarts letter.

In 1971, Lily received no letter. Instead a stranger knocked on their door with an invitation and Irene Evans began to cry. Holding her daughter, she kissed the top of her head.

'I knew you were special, Lily. I always knew.'

Lily patted her mother's shoulder. She wasn't special: she just wasn't like them.

In 1972, James Potter made chaser on his house Quidditch team.

In 1972, Lily Evans was called 'Mudblood' for the first time.

In 1973, James Potter asked out Lily Evans for the first time for no better reason than to see if he could make her jinx him before she jinxed Sirius.

In 1973, Lily Evans reached for Mary MacDonald's hand in the middle of the night, their arms extended between four-posters, clutching fingers through the weightless dark.

'I've decided,' said Lily in a whisper, 'that you're my best friend now.'

'You're mine too.'

'But we can't tell anyone,' urged Lily. 'I can't let Sev find out.'

In 1974, James Potter witnessed Hector Mulciber withdrawing his wand and aiming it at Mary MacDonald's back. Her legs flew out from under her and, as if clutched by an invisible force, she was dragged screaming to the top of the marble staircase and tossed down it like a rag doll. Her fall was broken when she hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

In 1974, Lily Evans followed the screams and yells from he Great Hall out to the marble staircase. Mary MacDonald lay huddled on the floor, unmoving. Lily looked around for an answer, and at the top of the stairs she saw it; James Potter with Mulciber pinned against the wall. There was blood all over Mulciber's nose and lathered on Potter's fist.

In 1975, James Potter returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas break.

'Just keep your head down this term,' Euphemia told him. 'You're not doing yourself any good getting involved with that sort of politics.'

In 1975, Lily Evans received an envelope addressed to her from her father. When she ripped it open she found nothing but a clipping from yesterday's edition of _The Guardian_.

 _SAIGON GIVES IN WITH A SIGH OF RELIEF_

Lily Evans thought back to that day and that dream and that lifetime. The Napalm on the TV set. Protests in London she was too young to march in. A sunflower, brown like Sev's eyes. A whole other world and a whole other war and a new one that was only just starting. But this war was her war - this war was because of her.

In 1975, James Potter read the morning _Prophet_ over Remus's shoulder.

 _MINISTRY DECLARES 'WE ARE AT WAR'_

'It's official then,' said Sirius. 'He's calling it what it is.'

'Took his time about it,' said Remus.

James said nothing, but scanned the table and found the girl he was looking for. It was not _The Prophet_ she had in her hand, but a small news paper clipping. He knew it was a Muggle paper because the pictures on the backside of the clipping weren't moving.

James couldn't see what is was that Lily was reading in the other side, but he could see that she was crying.

In 1976, Lily Evans let go of her last desperate, bloody, fruitless grip on Severus Snape.

In 1976, James Potter knew there was something burning in the pits of being that he didn't know how to extinguish. He knew that he liked Lily Evans. Properly, truly, not-just-for-a-laugh liked her. He realised in in the way it stung when she turned away from him by the lake one too-hot afternoon in June.

In 1977, Lily Evans was made head girl.

In 1977, James Potter was made head boy. For the last year he had been training himself to hold his tongue, to tame his anger, and now all that progress seemed to spit in his face.

In 1978, Lily Evans knew that she liked James Potter. Properly, truly, not-just-because-he liked-me-first liked him. She knew it when he dropped onto the icy stones of the dungeon floor in the first week after Christmas break to sit beside her.

'Please don't look at me like that.'

'Like what?'

'Like I'm the most pitiful thing you've ever seen.'

'I wasn't actually. I was looking at you think "I wonder how long she's been down here and not frozen to death and I hope she stops crying because I don't want to stay here too long".'

Lily gave a hiccuped laugh and wiped her eyes.

Later, as they walked through the silent school grounds, guarded from eyes of teachers by the darkness of winter, passing a bottle of mead back and forth, she would see him turn to her and say, 'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I feel like I should ask you what's wrong.'

And with the mead heavy in her head and her face stinging from the cold she told him how easy it was to forget there was a war when she was back in Cokeworth; how being at home with parents was so simple she almost wished she didn't have to come back to school; how if she was to die at home with them then at least she wouldn't have to figure out how to keep on living without them, and how selfish she knew that made her; how Mary was applying for internships abroad because she didn't want to stay in Britain amidst it all; how she so desperately wanted Mary to stay, and again how selfish that made her.

He had told her he was sorry, and that he hated the Ministry for not doing their job, and that he didn't know what to say to make it better.

And later again, as they climbed the winding staircase to Gryffindor tower, slowly and uneasily and drunkenly, James had called her name.

'Lily.'

She turned back to look at him, perched a few steps lower on the staircase, halted with his hand on the balustrade and his eyes on her.

'Mmm?'

'I just thought I should say: you're not alone, you know? There are purebloods out there who hate this as much as you do.'

She found it hard to look at him in that moment and had turned to the window. The moonlight illuminated the school grounds.

'I guess I know that,' she said slowly. 'I just wish it was different.'

'I'm with you on that one.'

And then there was nothing more to say, for the time being at least. They reached the portrait hole without another word and climbed inside. They strode across the empty common room to their respective dormitories.

'Thanks for the mead,' Lily said to him.

'Any time, Evans. See you in potions, yeah?'

'Charms is first tomorrow.'

'Yeah, but I'm not gonna go.'

'Of course. Goodnight, then.'

And they departed, James to bed and Lily to her windowsill to gaze out into the darkened grounds through the stained-glass window. The clouds had cleared and the quarter moon gleamed uncertainly. It's yellow face was cast a dark gold through the copper stained-glass. She pressed her finger to the window pane. _Gold like James's eyes._

In 1978, James Potter would find Lily Evans in the owlery and make her a proposition.

* * *

On Saturday the 26th of May 1978, James Potter returned to Gryffindor tower to find his dorm-mates in he midst of a disagreement.

'You owe me money, Lupin.' This was Sirius, slurring.

'You are so full of shit, Padfoot.' This was Remus, bored.

James nudged the door open. Remus was on his bed reading. Peter was crouched on the rug by the hearth scribbling away at an essay. Sirius was on his back, sprawled on the floor at the centre of the room with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of mead in the other. Their two other dorm-mates were absent.

Peter looked up at James as he stepped inside. 'James is back,' he said loudly. 'Look, you two, James is here!'

'Ey! There he is! The man of the hour!' cried Sirius, thrusting his cigarette in the air in greeting. He attempted to sit up, but only managed to roll himself over to face James, sloshing mead onto the floor. 'Prongs, come drink with me! These two are being tossers!''

'Looks like you've been doing fine on your own,' said James reproachfully, crossing to his four-poster.

'What's the matter? Bad day?' asked Sirius. 'Remus, did you hear that? James had a bad day. His date with Evans was bad.'

'It got a lot better once you had fucked off,' said James.

'So you think you'll see her again?' asked Remus, but James ignored him and addressed Sirius once more.

'You need to write to them.'

Sirius dragged on his cigarette. 'Who?'

'Ted and Anna, you prat.'

'Fuck Anna. Fuck her stupid freckled husband. They're so fucking smug. Don't you think they were smug? Ooh, look at us, we're married. Look how nice my dress is. Look how many freckles my husband have. Look how fucking stupid my daughter's name is.'

'Merlin, what the hell happened at the pub?' asked Peter.

Sirius gave a dramatic groan to build suspense, but James interrupted before he could explain. 'You weren't listening to thing Ted was saying. About the Order.'

Sirius groaned again. 'You believed that shit? He's a smug git.'

'Get the fuck up. We're going to the owlery and you're asking to meet them again. We gotta at least find out more.'

'Fuck off, James.'

'What are you two talking about?' piped up Peter. 'The order? What's that?'

'The Order of the Phoenix - it's a group fighting Voldemort. I'm going to join but I need Ted Tonks to tell me how to do it.'

'What?' cried Peter.

'Here we go,' moaned Sirius.

'How do you mean fight?' said Remus shrewdly.

'I don't know. Ted says they work alongside the Ministry, but seperate, and Dumbledore started it, and Ted friends asked him to join but Anna won't let him, but I bet if we told him we want to join-'

'No, no, no,' said Sirius hotly, propping himself up on his elbow. 'There's no "we" here. Who the fuck is this guy to go telling teenagers about some top secret group? It's total bullshit, Prongs. Every idiot on the street had a story no-one else knows about Voldemort that they tell in bars to make themselves sound interesting, and this is Ted Tonks's take on it.'

'They obviously want recruits,' said James. 'That's why Ted told us. He knows you left home, and that you hate this Pureblood mania. He knows you'd want to join.'

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. 'Well, he can think again about that. Even if this group really existed, which it doesn't, do you seriously think I wanna get myself killed doing the job the aurors can't do?'

'Oh, bullshit, Sirius. Don't be a contrarian. You jump at any opportunity to have a go at your brother and his mates. Now you'll actually have a purpose.'

Sirius sat up. 'Don't bring Regulus into this. Seriously, don't.'

'I don't get it,' said Peter, looking at James. 'You really wanna join? Like, properly fight?'

'I don't have anything better to do,' James replied.

'But you could get killed.'

'It wouldn't have to be combat, Pete,' said Remus soothingly. 'There's lots of things people could be doing to help. Trouble is nobody's doing it. If there was a proper group to organise people to get things done that could make a big difference.'

'So you're in?' James asked of him.

Remus gave a wan smile. 'I'm not sure I said that.'

'Why not?'

'Because - well, we've got exams.'

'After that, obviously.'

'Then we've got results.'

'Yeah, no shit, but after that.'

'But after that we need to start applying for jobs or internships and apprenticeships and work out what we're going to do, and I might end up needing to move to London and if so I'd need to find a place to stay, and everything will be up in the air and - Jesus, do I need a reason?'

'Yes, you do. What about your aunt?'

Remus gave him a pointed looks. 'She's fine. Thanks for asking.'

'She's fine now. What about next time? What about your mum?'

'Our house has protective charms all around it. Dad wouldn't let anything happen to her.'

'Well, that's good for her, but what about the other Muggles who don't happen to be married to your dad? Lily's parents and MacDonald's and a million other people. Who puts protective charms around their houses?'

Sirius gave a mirthless laugh. 'Protective charms aren't gonna stop a war.'

'It might stop people getting killed. Maybe that's what this group does - maybe it organises wards around Muggle neighbourhoods. Wouldn't you wanna help?'

'Well, if it was just that I guess I could help,' said Peter.

'How the hell would you know how to put up wards, Wormtail?' demanded Sirius.

'I could learn,' retorted Peter. 'These Order people could teach me.'

'Exactly,' said James victoriously. 'So you're in?'

'I suppose. I mean, if it really is just protective charms and stuff like that. I don't want to, you know... have to kill anyone.'

'For fuck's sake, Pete,' snarled Sirius. 'You can't be believing this shit.'

'Why are you so reluctant to think this could be real?' asked James sharply. 'Is it really because you don't want to give Anna and her husband any credit? Is that it?'

'Oh, please, I'm not that bloody complex,' snapped Sirius. 'I'm not wasting my time chasing after some make believe militia just because you don't have any other plans once school's over.'

'And you do?'

'Don't push your existential crisis on me.'

'Why can't you just write to them?'

'You write to them if it matters so bloody much to you,' barked Sirius. He clutched the end of his four-poster to haul himself onto his feet, glowering at James. 'I'm not your bloody mother. I don't have to sign your name for you. And just by the by, if the Order is real then don't even bother telling me, because I don't want anything to do with anyone who says they're fighting Voldemort but won't do anything when these lunatics blow up streets in Winchester.'

And with that he turned on his heel and stormed from the dormitory, slamming the door after him. James watched him go, scowling, and then proceeded to aim a kick at the trunk that lay at the foot of his bed.

'Well, he has got a point there,' said Peter timidly. Remus suppressed a laugh.

James Potter would not speak to Sirius Black until the following Tuesday.

'You should probably say sorry,' Remus told him on Sunday evening after twenty-four hours of estrangement. 'He was already pissed off when he got back from Hogsmeade, and you know how he gets about Regulus.'

'But I didn't do anything,' snapped James. 'He's being a brat. Peter, isn't he being a brat?'

Peter, who was sitting across the dormitory trying to immerse himself in potions revision, looked uneasy. 'I suppose so.'

'See? Peter agrees.'

'Peter agrees with everything always,' sighed Remus. 'I'm sick of him leaving the room when you come in. He's always so dramatic about it.'

'He should be apologising to me,' growled James. 'He dragged me and Evans along and then stranded us there with them. It's humiliating.'

Remus was pensive for a moment before he spoke again. 'But you said it ended up being alright with Lily, right?'

'That's not the point.'

'But do you think you'll see her again?'

'Bloody hell, stop asking me that. I told you I don't know. I haven't seen her today.'

Remus correctly suspected James's absence at lunch and dinner was due to his preference to shoot the quaffle alone on the empty Quidditch pitch than sit in silence with Sirius. Remus chose not to confirm this, and instead asked: 'Well, are you going to ask her?'

'Can you not worry about Evans for a minute?' demanded James. 'You still haven't told me what you think about joining the Order.'

Remus was silent once more. The familiar knot between his brows appeared, which James knew mesnt he was thinking quickly. 'Okay, but just hypothetically,' he began slowly, 'if you _were_ going to ask Evans out again...'

James said nothing, but got to his feet.

'What?' said Remus. 'What, are you mad at me now too?'

James strode across the dormitory without another word, slamming the door after him.

* * *

Lily Evans, for all her saintliness and morality, had a habit of breaking curfew. She did so for reasons she was neither happy nor proud about, and that reason was that she shared a dormitory with four other girls, each of which Lily knew had a demeanour far more forceful and a character far more compelling than her own.

Lily, who by seventeen had come to accept the labels of passive and submissive she had so long resisted, only had so much patience. And so very often, when Marlene would begin reciting Sirius Black's movements for the day, and Hestia and Mary would start bickering, and Charity and Indra would be giggling for hours, Lily would extricate herself.

Years ago, when her wandering had first started, she would invent for herself on these walks some other life to inhabit. She was not this plain, timid little school-girl with too many freckles; she was wondering this castle as a ghoul, an archeologist, a person who was beautiful and interesting and very unlike herself.

These days she dwelled on nothing so fantastic; she was just Lily, same as she'd ever been, but it was the world that was different. She would throw herself back to that other life she had before she knew she was stuck with herself forever and before the killings started and before she lost Severus.

She never had anywhere to go and never had anything to do on these tardy strolls. She would wonder where she wanted to, biding her time, sometimes painfully bored and sometimes painfully lonely and sometimes dreading returning to her dormitory. Tonight found her at the peak of the owlery.

She had wanted to walk - wanting to stop her thinking by making her legs hurt - but it wasn't enough. Back in Gryffindor tower, Mary had been talking about finding a job in America and Hestia had been talking about getting married; Lily wanted neither of these things, and yet she found her heart pounding with jealousy, and that jealousy made her feel guilty, and that guilt always made her feel scared.

She leant against the edge of the tower and gazed across the dark forest below. Why didn't she have more to offer anyone? Why didn't she have anything to offer herself?

The sound of movement behind her made her start. She turned, suddenly panicked, as if she had been caught in the middle of something shameful. James Potter was at the top of the staircase. He caught sight of her and frowned. 'Oh, hello,' he said.

She quickly assured herself that he wouldn't be able to see any hint of philosophising on her face. 'Hi.'

'I didn't know you were up here,' he told her quickly, as if he needed to assure her of as much. (Not too far into the future she would learn that such a thing was no so extraordinary).

'I felt like a walk,' she explained. 'My dormitory's crowded this time of night.'

'I can imagine.'

Lily wondered if he was thinking about Indra, who she knew he used to go with. She found she didn't much like thinking about it.

'Didn't want to interrupt your alone time,' James continued when Lily remained silent.

'But you're not,' she assured him. 'But I don't want to interrupt yours - I should be going.'

He stepped towards her the moonlight setting his dark face in an amber glow. 'Want to stay and have a smoke with me, Evans?'

She pursed her lips, half smiling and half disapproving. 'I don't smoke, but I'll stay and watch you if you want the company.'

'You're too good to me.' And he pulled out a tin of tobacco and began to roll. 'Has MacDonald turned your dorm into a war zone yet, or is she saving that until next week?'

'She's on the verge. What's the atmosphere in your room? Unbearable?'

He lit his cigarette and took a drag. 'Surprisingly tolerable. Peters quite adorable when he's contemplating suicide, and Remus may as well not be there as he doesn't speak to anyone when he studies, and Jones doesn't care because he wants to work in Quidditch, and Stebbins is so thick I don't think he even knows we have exams.'

'And you and Sirius?'

'You know me, Evans. I'm good at most things. Studying's quite irrelevant.'

'Of course, and I saw Sirius drinking down by the lake today so he's obviously not too concerned.'

James didn't reply, and instead took another heavy drag. Lily watched the smoke billow from his nose and over his lips.

'What's the matter?' she asked.

He looked at her. 'What? Nothing.'

'You're not still mad at him, are you? It wasn't his fault. He was upset because of his brother.'

'I'm not mad at him.'

Lily was silent, studying him as he smoked, before declaring: 'I think you are.'

James sighed in defeat. 'Well, can you blame me? He was being a prick. Having a dick for a brother doesn't give him a feee pass for the world.'

Lily was silent again and she knew that James knew that she disagreed, because he carried on. 'It's not even about what happened yesterday. It's about the fact that he just doesn't give a shit.'

'About what?'

'About everything,' snapped James. 'About the war. About what happened in Winchester. About any of it.'

She could see now, in the way he squeezed the butt of his smoke and the sharpness of his eyes behind his glasses, that he was upset.

When she spoke again she tried to choose her words carefully. 'I don't think that's true. I'm sure Sirius cares a lot. Only sometimes it gets really exhausting. Sometimes I wish I could just shut it all out. Stop reading the paper and hope nobody tells me about it.'

'Yeah, but you don't,' said James. 'If you had a chance to stop it you would, and now Sirius has a chance and - and...'

He stopped, tossed his cigarette and turned back towards the staircase.

'James...' She reached for his arm, but he was walking away now.

He strode under the thatched roof, inspecting the owls dozing in the rafters. 'I came up here because I want to send a letter but I don't know if I should.'

It was hard thinking of a response when she had no idea what he was talking about, but she tried her best. 'Why do you think you shouldn't send it?'

He turned back to her. 'Because Sirius told me not to and Peter said I'd get killed.'

And then all at once she knew what he was meaning. 'The Order,' she said slowly. 'Like Ted Tonks was saying?'

He gave her no confirmation, but merely continued. 'As long as I can remember my parents have told me not to worry about this stuff. They used to say there were people out there who knew how to fix it, so I shouldn't worry. I don't know why I believed them for so long.'

'My parents are just the same. When I was little there was this Muggle war, and they used to get so... angry when I'd ask about it, and I didn't understand why they were mad at me.'

'I don't get why they can't tell us the truth.'

'I suppose they don't want us to worry the way they do.'

James have a huff of laughter. 'My parents don't worry. Not as long as they've got their house elves and the manor house and their vault at Gringotts.'

This surprised Lily. She had always believed James had been nothing but spoiled in his childhood.

He seemed to see this in her eyes because he told her: 'I know that sounds bad. They're not really like that - they're good people. They're not like other purebloods. They're just set in their ways. It's only I'm sick of them telling me to keep my head down.'

'What is it you want to say in this letter?'

'I want to know how to join.'

'Really?'

'Is that crazy?'

'It's not crazy. Ill-advised perhaps.'

'And then Sirius said that he doesn't want anything to do with people if they're not even going to stop what happened in Winchester. And after he said that I realised how stupid it was - how excited I got when I heard about it.'

'So you want to - to prove him wrong, or something?'

James shrugged. He was no longer bristling, but now seemed somehow deflated. 'I don't know. I guess so. I just want to know, you know?'

'Then you should write to Ted.'

'You think?'

'Yeah. If for no other reason than to get it out of your head. It doesn't hurt to find out more, does it?'

He ran his hand through his hair. He gazed out over the cloudless sky before looking back to her. 'Evans, you're smart.'

'I know.'

'Come tell me what to say.'

Writing a letter as short as the one they went ought not to have taken the time it did. James wanted answers; Lily wanted to be polite. There were many revisions and crossings-out and 'What do you think about this?'

Lily chose the owl she favoured for sending letters, a screech owl with a speckled beak. He came when she called to him and she gave his neck a scratch.

'Is this your owl?' asked James.

'No, I don't have an owl, but he's my favourite. He's the prettiest and he knows me.'

'What's his name?'

'I don't know. Do the school owls have names?'

James looked perturbed. 'Your favourite owl and you haven't even named him? Really, Evans?'

'Is that bad?'

'It's shameful.'

Lily nodded solemnly. 'You're right. I must name him immediately. What do you think?'

'You have to do it. You know him very well.'

'Yes, but you'll know him well too soon enough. You must start sending your letters with him now that I've introduced you, or he'll be very hurt.'

'That's fair. What about... Er... Peter?'

'No, we'll get them confused. Which is your favourite Beatle?'

'Search me. I don't know Muggle music.'

'Not even the Beatles?'

'I like the man with the eyes. You know that guy?'

'Ah. Bowie. Or David, maybe?'

'Dave,' said James, satisfied, and Lily nodded approvingly.

James attached the letter to Dave's ankle and Lily carried the owl to the tower's edge.

'Safe flight, Dave,' said James.

'Take care, you pretty little boy,' said Lily, and she raised her arm.

Dave launched off from her and soared away. They watched him go, side by side, the owl-shaped speck fading on the horizon. She felt James shift beside her and turned to find him looking at her. She realised now that they were very close in proximity.

'Well done, Evans.'

She wondered, quite suddenly and somewhat terrified, if he was going to kiss her, right then and there, illuminated by the moonlight with their feet crunching on mice bones and the owls twooing from the rafters. He raised a hand, grazed her shoulder, frowning as he did so as if unsure where to put his hands, and the proceeded to pat her on the head.

She blinked up at him. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

'That was very nice.'

'You've earned it.'

And suddenly she felt sad. He was surely realising, as everyone else did, how unremarkable she truly was.

'I should go to bed,' she told him.

'Me too.'

'Yeah. Night.'

She turned away hurriedly. Half hoping he would stop her, she moved across the tower to descend the staircase. She heard his footsteps come after her.

'Hey, Lily?'

She turned back to him. There was a distance between them now - too great for her to even entertain the possibility of him reaching for her. 'Yeah?'

'If Ted writes back, do you want me to tell you?'

Lily hesitated. No matter how James saw her, she knew what she wanted. 'Yeah, could you?'

And just like that, Lily Evans sealed her fate.

* * *

As mentioned earlier, James Potter would not speak to Sirius Black until the following Tuesday. It was not unusual for them to argue. It was unusual, however, for an argument between the two to reach a point that would render them not speaking. They simply had too much to say to each other and too much to get done not to speak.

It was for this reason that James Potter trudged down to the lake bed on Tuesday afternoon to the clearing within a sparse thicket of trees where James knew from habit he would find Sirius, drinking from a bottle of mead and smoking a cigarette.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps approaching. He said nothing, but merely continued to smoke and turned back to the lake.

'Hey,' said James.

Sirius didn't look around. 'Alright?'

There was a moment of silence as James dropped down onto the grass beside Sirius and lit himself a cigarette. 'Is this where you were during potions?'

'Who needs potions?'

'True,' said James, and he took a drag to bide his time. 'I wrote to Ted Tonks.'

James had not been anticipating to be met with silence, but he was, and so he continued.

'He told me he wants to meet with us. He said he knows we won't have another Hogsmeade weekend before the end of the year so we should have a drink in Diagon Alley over the summer. I told him it couldn't wait that long.'

Sirius remained silent.

'I asked if he could meet us in the village Friday night. We need to do it before the full moon on Saturday, or otherwise Remus won't be able to come.'

More silence.

'So whoever you're shagging on Friday, you're gonna have to take a rain check.'

Sirius stubbed out his cigarette into the earth. The force with which he did so reduced the butt to a shred. 'So you've decided for me, have you? As per fucking usual. And Remus and Pete, decided for them as well?'

This was the resistance James had been waiting for. He had a response on hold. 'They want to go. They know it's important, and I know once you're there you'll realise it too.'

'Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just don't want to get involved?'

'That doesn't sound like you.'

'Trying to piss off mummy and daddy, are you, Prongs?'

James caught himself from retorting and took a steadying breath. 'Evans thinks I should cut you some slack because of Regulus.'

'Oh, well if Evans says so then it must be right. Is she your adviser now?'

This he hadn't been so well prepared for. 'No, we were having a conversation. You know conversations, Padfoot? Sometimes adults have them, where they talk about things.'

'Okay, let's talk. You like Evans, right?'

James found he didn't want to answer that. He had patted her on the head. That wasn't what he did with girls her liked. 'I don't know yet.'

'What do you mean you don't know?'

'We only went out once, and I don't think that even counts, thanks to you.'

'Fucking hell, can you let that go already? As if Evans cares. You asked her out. You must like her.'

'Well, sure I like her. Everyone likes her.'

'Then why do you wanna do this to her?' asked Sirius. 'Are you going to bring her along on Friday?'

'I told her I would, yeah.'

Sirius gave a dark laugh. 'You're dragging her into something she's not going to be able to get out of. You don't see anything wrong with that?'

'I... She's her own person. She decided for herself.'

'You're gonna get her killed. Pete and Remus, too.'

Before he knew it, James was on his feet, glowering down at Sirius. 'Are you coming or not? That's all I want to know.'

'No, Prongs, I'm not.'

'Good. Fine. I'll see you at breakfast.'

It wasn't like that, he said to himself as he wound his way up the sloping path from the lake to the castle. He wasn't like that. He made them a proposition and they accepted.

It was Sirius who was wrong. Sirius who thought he had better things to do. Sirius who wanted to drink and smoke and meet a different girl every night rather than do something that mattered.

It was he and Remus and Peter who were right, who knew what they should do, who knew what they had to do. And Lily knew, too.

His mind wondered back to the owlery. He had told her the truth when he said he hadn't known she would be there, but he was glad she had been. He thought of her shoulder against his as she leaned over him to read his scribbled writing and the way she bit her tongue as she read. He thought of how he had reached out pull her towards him and had faltered at the last minute. He thought of how he ought to have kissed her, because now he didn't know when he would get another chance.

When exams started she would hardly be aching to spend her evenings with him in expense of revision time, and if she were to accompany him on Friday then Peter and Remus would be with them. And if, by some stroke of luck, they found their way into the Order, then what would they be? Colleagues or comrades or soldiers but certainly not dating.

 _Dating_. Even the word seemed stupid when he considered what he had asked her to. He had asked her to fight in a war.

Perhaps Sirius was right. Perhaps that's not what blokes did to girls they liked.

He had patted her on the head, after all.

James Potter went to bed that night feeling worse than he could remember feeling in a long time. Sirius didn't want to speak to him, and he no longer felt that he could claim to have the moral high ground. He knew so little about the Order, and thought perhaps he would have been better off knowing nothing at all. He had missed what was perhaps the only chance he had ever had to kiss Lily Evans. In two weeks time, he would wake up alone in his bedroom in his parents' house and Remus and Peter and Sirius would wake up in their own homes and school would be over. They'd never be coming back. It hurt so much it made him angry.

James Potter fell into uneasy sleep. He wasn't to know that across the country, in a Muggle pub outside of Manchester, Ted Tonks was meeting a man named Frank Longbottom. He wasn't to know that over in the girl's dormitory, Lily Evans was lying awake wishing she had the courage to ask James Potter why he didn't want to kiss her. He wasn't to know that by the end of the week the man named Frank Longbottom would offer him his hand and welcome him on board.

In 1978, James Potter joined the Order of the Phoenix. By 1982 he was dead.

* * *

 **A/N: For various reasons the only thing I had to write and edit this on was an iPad which was fucking torture. Sorry for the endless typos I'm sure I've overlooked.**

 **As always thank you so much for reading! If you have any opinions whatsoever please let me know in a review! Xxx**


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